


Wedding night

by ocdmedic



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marriage, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocdmedic/pseuds/ocdmedic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rene was never a fan of weddings, regardless of whom would be attending. Despite that hatred that he always had for other people's romantic relationships, this situation was strangely, and so exotically different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wedding night

Rene was never a fan of weddings, regardless of whom would be attending. Despite that hatred that he always had for other people's romantic relationships, this situation was strangely, and so exotically different.

Both of them giggled childishly as they fumbled over each other's overwear, their bowties falling carelessly to the corridor floor. Mick had the room key in one hand, the other pawing gently at Rene's smooth jawline, feeling his shaven stubble and playing at his locks now falling away from his hairgel. "Open the damn door, amor." Rene gasped, a dazed grin stretching across his face, the way he drifted into French was so natural.

"I can't," Mick responded, his sharp teeth bared like fangs when he laughed, "Y' just so flippin' bootiful." Rene slapped his arm playfully, then went to fiddling at his shirt buttons again, cursing when the third got stuck. "God. Yer a bloody wreck, love." Mick chuckled, finally unlocking the door with his spare hand, nudging it ajar with his knee.

"It's that flipping damn wine, I tell you, amor..." Rene uttered, so out of breath from kissing his words started slurring together. Mick laughed again, it was low and deep from smoking and age. Without warning, he promptly scooped Rene up into a bridal carry, barging through the bedroom entrance. Rene yelped, clutching to the Australian's shoulders in panic, which he then followed with a glare when Mick just continued to laugh.

"Not funny." he mumbled, his tone hinted anger. Mick stopped in the doorway, shutting the door with his heel, immediately removing his shoes. He walked further into the room then turned to a bored looking Rene.

"You ready for the time of y'life?" he suddenly exclaimed, squeezing the back of Rene's knees excitedly.

"Depends what your definition of that is, my dear." Rene choked in response, now playing with Mick's shirt collar. "Anything with you is perfect enough though." Rene finished, just before Mick shoved his tongue down his throat.

Rene's hands flew up to Mick's cheeks, clutching to them desperately like Mick would suddenly pull away and leave him forever. Whilst keeping their lips joined, Mick moved over to the bed, turning Rene in his arms and laying him down delicately onto the mattress. "God, we're so drunk." Mick whispered against Rene's cheek, thinking out loud. Rene simply shook his head, adjusting his position in the process.

"You're only drunk if you can't tell you are," Rene panted, "You're just flushed." he flicked a hair from his face, before returning to their embrace. Mick simply hummed in agreement, closing his eyes again when Rene towed him back down into a lustful kiss.

This carried on for a while, their hands soon started to get to work in the meantime; Mick felt up Rene’s back, sliding under his untucked shirt and caressing at his skin. Rene had his mind elsewhere, his hand already undoing and pulling off Mick’s belt, his other hand now tearing through his shirt, swiftly and efficiently taking it off, ready to expose his chest hair and scarred beer belly.

"Wot y'doing, love." Mick whined, pulling his hips away from Rene’s groping hands.

"These clothes look ugly on you. Suits really aren't your thing." Rene said light-heartedly, looking up at the Australian with suggestion.

"Now, mate, that's just rude." He snivelled, playing along. He ran a thumb lightly across the Frenchman's chin. Rene pushed himself back, now sitting at the head of the bed, and begun to strip his waistcoat and shirt. Mick shuffled up to join him, a comical sad look on his face, "No strip tease?" Rene raised an eyebrow, pausing at his second button, "…It's my wedding night."

"It's _our_ wedding night." Rene then said, placing his hand on Mick's thigh, "You only needed to ask." Mick gave him a pleased grin, begging Rene silently and childishly. He rolled his eyes, why did he marry such a disrespectful man? "Oh fine then, if you're gonna yell at me like that." he muttered, a smile threatening his scolding facade.

Rene stood up and sauntered away from the bed, his head buzzed with passion and alcohol, it made him dizzy if he looked at the bedside lamp. In the corner of his eye, he saw Mick adjust where he was sitting, bundling his hands together in his lap; he leant forward, his mouth turned up unto a smug grin. Just as smugly, Rene smiled back at him, moving his hands to begin undoing his shirt.

"Suspenders." Mick pointed out, gesturing at Rene's chest, "You always do them first." The Frenchman sighed in slight frustration, but still with a drunk grin painted across his face. Doing as he was told, he gently hooked a finger under his brace, sliding his away from his shoulder and letting it fall down to his leg. He could see Mick itching to tear them off by himself.

“Patient.” Rene whispered, licking his lower lip just to see Mick squirm even more. Once the second brace was off, he moved up to his buttons once more, making sure he used both hands. This procedure was so rhythmic at this point, he could still remember the first time they did this, French jazz was playing quietly in the background, and Mick’s hands lay tenderly on his hips, kissing and nibbling at his neck… Deliberately, he gradually heaved his shirt from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor silently as he sashayed back over to his waiting partner.

 Impatiently, Mick fidgeted in his seat, his face was red from both the lust and the laughing, and why was he even laughing? “You’re unbelievably out of it, _mon cher_.” Rene finally said, loosely hanging his arms and snickering. Mick waved his hands at him, now breathless from laughing too hard. “I can’t even tell if you’re horny or just drunk.”

“Both.” Mick replied, suddenly hopping up off the bed and pouncing on Rene. Their lips joined flawlessly in that moment, suddenly any thought or answer was shoved down to the backs of their minds. It didn’t take long for it to escalate any further, as Rene had already managed to tug off both their pants with a single move.

They slumped back onto the bed, with Mick under Rene at this point. Carefully, Mick shuffled further up the bed, sliding up at the headboard so Rene could perch on his lap. “Perfec’” Mick mumbled triumphantly, brushing his fingertips across Rene’s bare thighs. Electric shot up through the Frenchman’s spine, filling him with a red hot hunger, making his body inch closer to Mick’s hands, wanting that touch more than ever. “Stop squirming, love.” Offended slightly, he sighed in response, pausing to place his hands up onto Mick’s shoulder and entwine his fingers behind the Australian’s neck. For some reason, he felt so suddenly tense, as his new husband reached down to take off the last piece of clothing preventing contact. Mick’s fingers grazed it lightly. That was Rene’s limit.

“Oh Mick, _se vous plait mon cher_ … _juste me baiser_ …” Rene panted, leaning back at Mick’s forbearing touch. Mick smirked at the sudden drift to his mother tongue, it always meant that he was doing well; he moved his hands again, palming his bulge softly through his boxers. Rene had to bite his knuckle to prevent screaming, “ _Mon dieu… Je te aime tellement…”_

“I know you love it, mate.” Mick murmured, almost hushing him reassuringly, he ran his tongue under his sharp teeth, “But I know what’cha gonna love even more.” Rene gave him a brief glance of fear and excitement. Stirring his hands yet again, Rene felt Mick’s warm finger slither itself under the top of his shorts, teasing down his hips and past his thighs.

“ _Oh la bonté, merveilleux…”_


End file.
